


Day 21

by gbMS



Series: Days [3]
Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Alternate Universe, F/M, Pete's World
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-08
Updated: 2017-08-20
Packaged: 2018-12-13 01:03:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,219
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11748867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gbMS/pseuds/gbMS
Summary: Day 21 of the Doctor in Pete's World(I quote episodes sporadically, obviously those lines aren't mine)





	1. Tabloids

He found himself drawn to the magazines more so that usual. Each one filled with silly snippets of speculative trivia of which he couldn't get enough. Which celebrities are pregnant? “Not that one, stupid magazine, she's not from a bio-compatible species. See? You can tell by the going on the camera from this angle. Do you see the shine on the picture just there? They probably thought it was just a lens flair but…” he cut himself off, glancing around him as he remembered there was no one around. He grumbled, realizing for the 236th time in five and a half hours that Rose had gone to work. “Transported by a trash mag!” he exclaimed, absently turning the pages, filing away the useless trivia like it was gold.

There it was.

A picture of him and Rose, a few days prior, with him looking at her laughing face: Eyes closed, mouth in open in exclamation. Her hands were on his chest, pushing him away as he was holding on loosely, inevitably telling her a bad joke to amuse them both so much. He couldn't remember what he’d done or said that she was laughing so hard but realized he had to do it again. Then, he looked at the large black print above it:

  
**Vitex Heiress’s New Beau?**  
_Unknown Older Man Seen in Company of Young Heiress_

  
“Oi, the age gap's not _that_ bad this time around.” He said directly to the magazine like a madman. “She was 19 and I was in my 90th decade looking like I was well into my 4th now that was a gap. Barely look more than ten years older than her, now.” He pointedly sniffed to himself, running his hand through his hair and straightening his shirt. “Well,” he looked off the page, thinking out loud, “She’s 24 on this planet, right?” He looked up at the ceiling as he spoke aloud quickly, “if she went by her birth year she’d be 27.” He scoffed and shouted to the magazine. “Ha! Her own Dad pegged me at 35. Older my arse!”

“Language,” came a calm, familiar voice followed by soft steps. He turned with a big grin to see Rose smirking slightly, leaning on the doorframe with a plastic bag in hand. “An’ I’m 27 officially. Number lost meaning somewhere. Met you at 19, travelled with you for two years ish, missed an extra year thanks to someone’s driving, three ish years here where it’s two years ahead… just went by the year as I have no idea how old I really am.” She smiled back as she walked over and tossed him a banana from the bag before getting on the floor and sitting across from him.

“Thought you’d be gone a few more hours,” his smile grew even more at seeing her, that five-and-a-half hour irritation seemed to disappear from his mind. His eyes almost glittered at her with that silly grin as he absently peeled his banana, taking a bite as she answered.

“This came out yesterday,” Rose pointed to the article, “Took a late lunch. Mobbed at a Tesco’s by cameras asking ‘bout you.” She shrugged, “Self imposed ‘go-home-where-the-paps-can-bugger-off' protocol.”

“Oh, language, Miss Tyler, what would your mother say?” The Doctor said, still smiling at her between bites of his banana.

“No, that’s the _official_ title of it given by _Madam Tyler._ Word included. Doesn't get a language warning,” she gave him a tongue-in-teeth smile before speaking, her lips still turned up in amusement, “So they take pictures of us outside Mum and Dad's, invade your privacy, call us a couple, and you concentrate on how they rightly think your older than I am?”

He threw out fingers as he spoke, “A, I had no idea where that picture was taken, 2, they can't invade what doesn't really exist, and D, touting the age gap as an issue is just insulting, but back to 3 or C, with the little star next to it indicating there’s more thought in this, we _are_ a couple, even not disregarding your previously accounted and rightfully earned miffed-ness.”

She took his banana peel from his hands and stood. “Less miffed. Bit miffed. At _you_. Still pretty miffed at _him_ ,” she said as she walked the peel to the bin and poured herself some water from the tap, and showed him a glass in offering. He shook his head and she put it back on the shelf. “I know, should be the same, isn’t, you have to deal with it.” Rose carried her water back toward him and motioned to the article again. “We can fix it if you want. There’s a shouty bloke in the Vitex PR department just waiting for me to let him free on some magazine for printing speculations.”

“Well, maybe he should say something about photographs outside the mansion but everything else seems to be okay. I don't mind as long as they refer to me as _dashing_ older man, or even ’John’ in the future.” He sniffed and straightened his blue tie.

Rose laughed and kissed his cheek. “I’ll have him make a note of that.”


	2. Roses

He had still not quite gotten used to the many Rose Tylers he’d met. There wasn’t an alternate Rose in this universe before, unless you count the morkie which no one in the Tyler family mentioned, but there were _three_ now.

…Well, _four_ if you weren’t a Tyler and still thought of the dog when you found it amusing. As long as you never mention it to a certain blond family with a tendency to slap. Hard.

Rose Tyler, Vitex Heiress dressed differently and carried herself a bit stiffer. The clothes were often nicer, more posh. Her make up class and completely neutral or even done by someone else on special occasions. She even tried to remember her D’s and to tolerate idiocy, but from what he could tell, the one worked far better than the other. Her eyes would roll almost imperceptibly and he could tell she bit back comments, but he supposed remembering D’s was easier than tolerating idiocy, he pretty much proved that himself.

Commander Tyler, Rose's work costume. Hair up in a tail, minimal make up, often black vest or thick military-esque coat with loads of pockets and boots for stomping. He’d been there when Commander Tyler had to make an appearance a few times, quick thinking but frustrating to her superiors, unwilling to order as much as ask questions to direct people to the right decision. Maybe a bit more authoritative that he was used to, all while her lack of self assurance shined in her eyes, like a sheep in wolf’s clothing. She obviously was trying to get soldiers to think for themselves, but within the hierarchy of a military she was running on an irritating but delicate balance between orders and questions.

Her general joviality or curiosity would change until she approached the front door to leave, a mask that matched the outfit she was wearing generally dawning on her face, replacing the norm like an actress in every day life. He didn’t like it, because the Real Rose Tyler was more than enough for any situation, but once again he supposed there was a bit of hypocrisy there. Commander Tyler was more severe, at times, even determined. The Vitex Heiress was overly polite and politic, years of testing on how to be and speak in the public eyes to avoid problems for her family beaten into her combined readily admitted attachment to dramas on the telly.

And Rose Tyler, completely devoid of modifiers. Classic Rose. The perfect Rose in his mind and memory, her smile firmly planted, skittering about in her hoodies and jackets over a random but usually flattering t-shirt and jeans. It took her less time than any of the other Roses, which is saying something.  
Though, now that he was here he was slowly seeing the two foreign, fake Roses relax and mutate into his normal one. Her posture relaxing as Heiress Rose, her face smiling more as Commander Tyler, Classic Rose having grown and changed a bit but still the dominant Rose.

When she was came home, whichever outfit she wore for they day seemed to slowly become a version of Classic Rose. Shirts being untucked, hoodies or jackets being dawned in place of her military garb, hair coming down releasing tension of the day and face relaxing as her various shoes were kicked off by the door.

He had grown accustomed to her ‘costume changes’ as he called them. She often packed a small duffle for a quick change from one false Rose to another, almost no overlap between the two for ease before the slow mutation. Days requiring one or both foreign Roses all seemed to culminate in the thankfully eventual return of Rose Classic at home.

He could tell her activity for the day without asking, what she wore started telling a story. Posh clothes and dangling earrings meant something with Vitex and/or Pete, add a bit of extra make-up and that meant some formal function where she would definitely be seen or photographed. Black kit, small hoop earrings and hair up meant she was going out with the troops and wasn’t sure when she’d be home. Wet hair and a towel meant she wasn’t going anywhere and likely would come back to bed with a grunt and a flop or be found dancing in the kitchen after her morning cuppa.

Those days were his favorite days, few and far between as they seemed to be. Pure Rose, happy and undistracted by duty, playful and adventurous. Turning seemingly onerous or boring things into something amusing, if only slightly so.

It looked like this afternoon was shaping up to be a mutant day, where her Vitex Heiress shirt she had donned for the previous hours' activities was untucked and her hair less kempt than it previously had been in her costume. She stood by the door, sliding on a pair of smaller, but familiar looking plimsolls, one of the sure-fire ways of telling that this was going to be a Classic Rose situation, if tinged by the Vitex Heiress going into public.

“Quick shop. Getting supper. We’ve nothing in.” Rose quickly tied her shoes before grabbing her CARDIS keys and a pair of sun glasses from the side table.

“I can go with you,” The Doctor offered from his seat by the desk he’d placed in the sitting room.

“Nah. Just a quick one. Be faster an' easier if I just slip in and don’t get noticed shopping with a certain _dashing_ older man.” She slid her hand to the doorknob, opening the front door to leave.

He sighed, “Fine. Remember Rule 1. I’ll see you soon.”

“Not if I see you first.” Rose winked at him before putting on her sun glasses and slipping out, closing the door behind her.

He grumbled, picking up one of his newly purchased medical texts and opening her lap top. “...May as well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Never did a mostly thought format one before. Seemed like it fit.


	3. Dr

“I said 'Supper' like four times now,” came a woman's voice from out of nowhere. The Doctor turned to see Rose coming in to the room slowly, her shoes off, hair down, collared shirt still untucked as she obviously tried to relax from the day.

“Oh, sorry, I didn’t even notice you got home from the shop” he murmured, rubbing the bridge of his nose causing his glasses to raise. He adjusted his glasses again before turning back and trying to read a last few sentences.

“Did a fast one. Sun glasses, hat, the whole kit. Came back a while ago,” she quietly said as she walked up to stand behind him, wrapped her arms down over his shoulders in a hug while he stared at the computer screen. He pushed his glasses up and rubbed his eyes, leaning back in his chair to be closer to her. “Having fun studying?”

“So many tests.” He sighed, “So many tests and so many stupid assumptions you humans make about how to go about ridding illnesses. I have to take a step back and… primitivize myself. It’s exhausting.” Rose lifted her arm and lightly thwapped him on the side of the head before putting her it right back with the other, laying her chin on his shoulder. “Might not even want this degree. Might not even use it. The concept of a residency…” he grumbled instead of finishing the sentence. “I feel like I’m studying backwards.”

“You already have the PHDs locked up, Doctor, you don't have to go through this, you even said you might only want to do research.” She kissed his cheek and left herself cuddling his back and chair with her head on his shoulder. He nuzzled his head gently against hers before kissing the only part of her his lips could immediately reach.

“I can do more. This makes it more possible without the aid of psychic paper to not be so limited in what I can do. It will allow me a few more liberties outside the part-time work for Torchwood, which is largely your fault, by the way.”

“Oh you love it,” she slid back taking her head off his shoulder and replacing it with her hands. He swiveled the chair to face her, wanting eye contact as he smirked at her supposition. “Not the paperwork and protocols –not that you’d actually _do_ any of that anyway—but the adventure an' chance to use that oh-so-impressive brain of yours,” she dropped a kiss on his lips, “An’ avoid feeling too _domestic_.”

“And finishing this means I’d have more options to practice said non-domesticity. As you’ve said, I like options. I like the domesticity more than I should,” he smiled, quickly looking her up and down quickly with a mischievous but distracted smile before returning to the screen and his sentence, “Maybe I’ll like medical doctoring more than I like the studying backwards.” Rose pulled the other office chair to her beside him and sat in it, releasing him completely but maintaining closeness.

“You could always get started on that writing career. You might like it. Make your own hours, do your own stuff. I like those stories you’re doing for Tony,” she said as she laid the side of her head on his shoulder. He let out a single breath that sounded like a chuckle.

“After I've done those stories for Tony I think children's stories are _not_ in my wheelhouse.” He said almost amused as he clicked the mouse to close what he was reading.

“True, you did have to come up with some creative ways to cover the word 'explosion’ an awful lot,” Rose almost laughed.

His own huff of a laugh seemed to free all of the frustration on his face. “I _did_ enjoy the talking cartoon donkey.”

“You just did that so you could call Jack an Ass.” Rose teased, nudging him with her elbow.

“No, but it’s because he’s very _friendly_ and _wants_ _to_ _give_ _everyone_ _a_ _ride_.” He beamed with pride, enjoying his inside joke with himself a bit too much, “being able to call him an ass is just a bonus.”

“Could of been a pony then,” she admonished with a small finger shake. “Or a horse, or a unicorn.”

“…That’s…” he rubbed his stubbly chin and looked to the side when his eyebrows knit at the thought for a moment, “oddly appropriate. I did already say the Face of Boe was a hobby horse.”

“What's that to do with Jack?”

“Oh.” He forgot to enlighten her with that detail, looking to her with a pause, “Um. Yeah. Jack is the Face of Boe.”

Roses eyes opened wide in shock but she didn’t pause as she let that information sink in. “Okay.” She released a breath slowly before returning to their conversation, “So then he’s already a horse.”

“Suppose he could be.” The Doctor toddled his head side to side.

“But then you couldn’t call him an ass.” She prodded him again.

“True. Maybe I could keep that and add back in some explosions. I kind of miss explosions.” He tapped a key on the keyboard and pushed away from the desk, bring her chair along and pulling her closer.

She let out a sharp, _“Ha!”_ and wrapped her arms around him even at the distance they had to be kept at due to the chairs. “Can’t miss something you haven’t stopped.”

“Eh?” He raised an eyebrow, trying to recollect what she's making reference to and failing.

“Few weeks ago? At Torchwood. Your first day? _Visiting_.” Her eyebrows lifted and her chair pushed back a bit as she accounted the incident, letting him go. “They had to evacuate everyone above floor 4?” The Doctor had a blank look before suddenly remembering and looking shocked as Rose added, “Are we pretending that wasn’t you?”

“That wasn’t an explosion! That was… well.. there was a button--” he stuttered out.

“--Oh, that explains it all!” she said, laughing at him. She pushed off the floor with one leg and twirled her chair back and forth lazily, her laughter slowly dying. He grabbed the arm of her chair and wheeled their chairs closer together before sweeping her onto his lap and kissing her sweetly. Her noises of laughter stopped but her eyes smiled wide. “Come on, lump. ‘S fish. Brain food. Good for more backward studying.” Smiling, she gave him a quick peck and got off his lap, pulling him up and walking out to the kitchen, Doctor in tow.

“You could always teach.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spoilers for Bedtime Stories: Jack is a talking Cartoon Donkey.


	4. Brain Food

The Jack conversation was forthcoming. He could see it on her face all through dinner.

Rose couldn't help thinking while they ate.

Jack had been shot on the Dalek ship. She cried for his death, the other him had instructed her to stop trying to help him, then the Daleks disposed of him and half an hour late he was fine on the monitor. She thought maybe they were wing in his death. Or maybe they had missed and Jack was an over dramatic kind of guy and faked it well.

Granted, she has had to tell _him_ all this because he was busy on the TARDIS helping Donna, and the Jack information was all stuff the _other_ him hadn’t had time to explain.

“Do humans in the 51st century live very long?” she asked as she placed their empty plates in the sink. It would have seemed like a non-sequitur if it hadn’t been do expected. Her resigned face knew that it wasn’t the case, but she still didn’t know, she just knew that wasn’t it.

“Longer, but...”

“But not head-in-a-jar, Oldest-inhabitant-of-the-Isop-Galaxy long.” She crossed her arms and looked at him expectantly as she leaned her back casually against the sink. “So why’s Jack…” she trailed off, not knowing how to even phrase the sentence.

“Sit, Rose.” He said quietly. Immediately she stiffened, slowly making it back to her seat. She sat slowly and carefully, noting the seriousness in his eyes and the fact that he was usually brash enough to tell her ridiculous things while she was standing. This felt more deliberate.

Like he was going to break some news.

“What happened?” she almost whispered, afraid of the answer but not wanting to hurt him. She took his hand that was gently on the table. His eyes softened.

Of course she was trying to help him. She didn’t know _why_ it was making him sad.

He pulled the hand closer to him, keeping hers entangled in his fingers and keeping her close.  
“That day, the last day you saw Jack before, what do you remember?”

“GameStation, Daleks, He kissed me goodbye, there was that whole thing with you sending me home and taking in the heart of the TARDIS, and a song… and I poured the Time Vortex into the Dalek Emporer's head an I...” she paused, her eyes seeming to unfocus. “I brought… Jack… back.” Rose’s eyes widened at the realization, staring off into space before welling up and looking directly into his. “It’s my fault, isn’t it? I brought him back.” She pulled her hand back to herself in shock, going pale.

The Doctor solemnly nodded as she looked away. He watched tears begin to drip from her shocked, widened eyes. “But you couldn’t control it. You brought him back for good. He’s always alive, you wanted to make him live again... so he always does.”

“You’ve always talked about your long life as a curse. I cursed Jack?” She didn’t look at him. Her eyes went back and forth, unfocused, still trying to come to grips with all the new information.

He grabbed her hand and attention, the action pulling her unblinking eyes to him. He gripped her hand tightly, the clammy feeling of her flesh warming to his touch. “He doesn’t seem to mind.”

“But I still did that.” She whispered, closing her eyes to stem the stream of tears flowing for freely.  
“If a Time Lord had done what you did, taken in the Heart of the TARDIS, they’d be a _vengeful_ God. You brought a friend back to life—"

“But you… you did have it. You took it… “ Rose squinted and looked off, slightly out of his eye line as she concentrated on the thought. Remembering that time was apparently hard but she was getting there. “I had a headache… I was… burning and” her eyes widened very fast. She immediately looked at him in wonder, the look swiftly mutating into frustration and anger, “You kissed me!”

“Oh you...” he rubbed his ear, pausing slightly, “You remember that?”

“Yeah, _now_! I’ve spent bloody forever trying to figure out all that and you bloody kissed me and took it out and you regenerated… it killed you! _I_ killed you.”

“Well I died happy if it’s any consolation” the Doctor tried to joke.

“No, it’s not a consolation, you idiot. I killed you and made Jack suffer.”

“Jack is fine. And he does die eventually, saving a whole planet, smiling and knowing why.” He tried to reassure, rubbing his hand gently on her back, “As for me, I saved the woman I loved from burning up after she saved the universe. Not a bad way to go. I once regenerated from a fall, Rose. Rather for love than a few feet and gravity. And I got a kiss out of it! Gravity didn’t do that.”

She ignores his joke. “But now it’s twice. I’ve killed you twice.” Rose looked horrified, shaking herself and hugging her own torso as if she’d be sick. “Three times! GameStation, the street, and there was that Church in 1980s.” she gagged and covered her mouth.  
The Doctor stood up and pulled a bucket from under the sink, bringing it to her as she held it tightly, not using it but holding onto it’s like it was a lifeline. He gently rubbed her back. “The church doesn't count. And the Daleks get the blame for that other one. Either the Daleks or my distraction.”

“Distraction because of _me_.” She almost spat the words. Rose closed her eyes tightly, little tears peeking out of her tightly closed eyelids.

“Best distraction.” He swiftly moved around her, back to his chair and moved it closer to her before sitting to look at her face. Rose’s eyes were still closed, leaking tears down her cheeks and into the clutched, empty bucket. “If I hadn’t died, I wouldn’t have poured my energy into what would have been me, then happy. So if you must take responsibility for that one, you have to take responsibility for me being happy, too.” Her face sobered and her white-knuckled grip on the bucket seemed to loosen as she spoke, but she still didn't look at him. “You took on that power to save me. Then you saved the universe from Daleks. So you saved the universe plus one. You didn’t have to bring Jack back, but you wanted him to live. You saved the universe plus two. He wouldn’t have been able to save that planet if he hadn’t lived that long, so we can add New Earth to the list of places you’ve saved. Universe, two men, a planet.”

“Reductive an' rationalizing an' patronizing.” Rose's face sobered, rubbing the remnant of past tears off her reddened and puffy cheeks.

“Patronizing? It’s true!” he prepared for her to argue, but instead found her resolved face.

“Then hypocritical.” She said clearly exasperated with enough to almost angrily look back into his eyes. He only blinked at her response, mouth partially open in shock. “You never turn that thought process around to yourself, do you?”

“What?” the Doctor asked a bit loudly.

“You only remember that you’ve done bad. You never seem to count the lives you’ve saved, just the ones you’ve lost. And I see why. The ones you’ve lost hurt so much more. I ruined a man’s life and took another. Men I love. But you're more than willing to reduce my missteps into heroicism, but never your own.”

He thought on that, his face slowly growing angry… at himself. His voice took a somber quality. “You did it again, Rose Tyler.”

“What?” she calmed a bit, wiping the last remnants of her tears off of her face.

“You were crying and _you_ made _me_ feel better. It’s not fair.” The Doctor brushed her hair behind her ear with his hand, letting it linger on the side of her face. Rose leaned into it, closing her eyes, taking comfort in his touch.

She opened them slowly and looked into his before he very gently kissed her lips. “No more fish for you, Rose Tyler. Your brain is becoming big enough as it is.”


	5. Screwdriver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He makes a screwdriver

Six visits to Torchwood, too many unpleasant interruptions, not enough pleasant ones, and an entirely too cluttered and small dining room table were going through his head. All that and he managed to cobble together a noisy, four centimeter wide tube with small, differently colored metal bits sticking out the sides. Some apparently sharp as the plaster on his hand noted. And a green nib, because life was cruel and unfair and he couldn’t seem to find a blue one that fit anywhere.

“One last bit! Rose, can you get me the sacio—”  
She looked at him, her mouth drawn flat and her eyebrows slightly raised, questioning if she really had to ask without saying anything. He cleared his throat before rephrasing.

“—the smaller L-shaped thingy next to the dark square thingy by the microwave,” he finished. Rose's face relaxed a bit as she smirked, walking to the counter. She looked at the chunks of metal before picking up and handing him the piece he was hopefully talking about and showing it to him.

“That’s the one!” He said happily as she picked it up carefully and handed it to him.

The Doctor popped a piece off his rudimentary case and looked at it under a very large, stationary magnifying glass on a stand. He took his very Earthy, non-sonic, long-shafted screwdriver from an eye-glass repair kit and screwed the piece where it should go before picking up the still smoking soldering iron. Rose stepped behind him to see what he was doing, hoping that if she watched his actions maybe she’d understand them better but knowing from her extensive experience of the last few years that that would, in fact, not work. He seared bits where bits should likely go, a small sizzle happening as he touched and rolled the hot iron. Rose took a deep breath and moved back to the counter, leaning against it and watching him be clever.

“It seems,” the Doctor paused, putting the soldering iron down and blowing into the odd looking sonic screwdriver before popping the bit of casing back into place, “it might be done!” He looked up at her and smiled wildly, all his teeth showing. Rose smiled back excitedly.

“How do we know?” Almost before the words finished leaving her mouth there was a familiar whir and followed by a jangly clunk of something breaking.

…and the smell of burning. Which was also familiar at this point.

“Ha!” the Doctor triumphantly laughed, holding his screwdriver in his hand, cradling that hand in his other like the screwdriver was too exciting and precious to release.

Rose very quickly turned around to the source of the clank and saw a smoking pile on the kitchen counter what likely used to be her toaster. It sparked and she flinched back before rushing toward the still plugged in carcass of an appliance to unplug it from the electrical outlet, stemming it’s further fire-hazard, sparking tendencies.

Instead of hollering as he was prepared for, Rose unexpectedly hopped for joy vertically before jumping toward him. He jumped up and down quickly in time with her, excitement radiating all over the room.

“It works!” she squealed as she bounced, the two grabbing hold of one another with happiness, one of his hands separating from one of his favorite things to the other.

“You doubted?” he stopped jumping, still smiling and holding her tightly in triumph.

“You think you’re so impressive,” she grinned wildly.

“I am so impressive.” He responded cheekily, pulling her in flush with himself in excitement and kissing her lips quickly before releasing her and twirling her. She laughed with adrenaline and delight as she spun away a bit.

“It looks like your old screwdriver's eyes were bigger than it’s belly,” she motioned to the large, bulgy object in his hand that was wide unlike the one she'd gotten so used to, “an’ then got sick all over the kitchen.” Rose nodded to all the assorted bits on the table, counter, and a few on the floor from the slightly exploded toaster.

“I had less to work with! I had to scrounge for this much, and Frankenstein things to make other things to make _other_ things to use. Oh. And some things at Torchwood may not work anymore. No real loss, many of those things weren’t going to work anyway.” Rose would have scolded him if she wasn’t so amused.

“R an' D is gonna hate you if they find out.” She chuckled. He hummed amusedly in response.

“They might not, quite a backlog in there and I’m very clever. And I’ll move the mess. The table's not quite big enough, anyway. I still have a few more things I think I could do to this,” his eyes held the calculations he was inevitably doing in his head, already tinkering with it in spirit. “There’s a few extra rooms, I’ll move it all in there. May have to move the table for a bit.”

“I _would_ like to eat on this table at some point.” Rose said, amused by his gaze to the screwdriver and still smiling at his newest accomplishment.

He took his eyes from the screwdriver and looked to her, wrapping his other arm around her and placed his empty hand on her waist, holding her closer “Oh, like you’re ever at the table when you’re eating.” He looked back to his shiny new multi-purpose tool, “Still, I’ll revise it. Add settings. It doesn’t do much right now except blow up toasters, apparently.”

“I’m shocked that that’s the first thing it does.” Rose said with the straightest face she could pull.

He shrugged, taking note of her sarcasm but disregarding it. “Had to start somewhere.”

“Fine,” she leaned up and kissed him sweetly, “but first project with it, you’re making a new toaster.”


	6. Pete

“Is that all, then?” asked the voice over the phone.

What was with Earth’s obsession with documentation? Birth Certificate, Drivers license, employee number, national verification, passport…

Everything seemed necessary, despite the fact that he never had occasion to actually need any of those. A certificate to prove he can teach?

Which, thanks to Peter Tyler, was already forth coming all for the asking for.

He’d always had the psychic paper but always though of it as something to make his life easier, to prove whatever he needed proving in the moment. And now he didn’t have that, so the millions of pieces of paper his trusty psychic paper had been and the infinite number it could be was represented by this ginormous stack of endless, repetitive filler.

Having Pete was a bit like psychic paper, in a way. Getting the document he needed for the occasion, though likely costing Pete more than a thought as it would have cost him with his paper.

Thanking him seemed like a thing that needed doing.

“Pete, I want to thank you.” The Doctor said gratefully to the phone. “Probably should do it in person, but you seem a busy man.” 

“Not problem, Doctor. We’re still getting you rolling. Rose did warn me that you might want it all. Something about you liking your freedoms.” Pete almost chuckled on the other end.

“Options,” the Doctor smirked, his smile clearly apparent in his voice. “Sounds like her.”

“And really, It seems I should be thanking you.” Pete's own happiness rang though his words.

“Oh, it’s no problem. Watching Tony was a blast—” he started, recalling the actual day fondly. It was definitely fun to have a little chaotic ball of curious energy around that wasn’t him. Not to mention the delight it seemed to provide Rose.

“Not that.” Pete’s voice caught the Doctor by surprise, “Though I did appreciate the biscuits.”

He’d completely forgotten where he had left that box of morsels “...Oh, you’re welcome for those.” He covered.

“I meant for the way Rose has been. I don’t have much to go on, I only knew her for a few hours before she lived with us, but she’s been better. Happier.”

The concept of Rose being unhappy when she first arrived wasn’t new, but it was still perturbing to have it confirmed. “Was it that bad?” the Doctor said quietly into the phone. He'd never gotten a non-Rose perspective, after all.

“No, well, not to me at any rate. Micks and Jacks certainly acted like it. I think she did a very good job pretending to the rest of us.”

“Pete, what happened while… I mean.” He audibly stumbled, waving his hand absently to try and complete his sentence for him though it was unseen. He couldn’t finish the sentence, but hoped his meaning was caught.

Pete paused. The Doctor could almost hear the gears turning in Pete's head through the phone, weighing the options of conversation before he spoke.

“She made herself busy. Vitex and family at first, then work. She made a few friends, had more than a few tutors. Work took over, though. More than that, you’d have to ask her.” The voice on the other end seemed like it was hesitating but definitive. “She’s not a fan of people talking out of turn.”

Tutors? That explained a bit. Rose had said she read but didn’t necessarily imply _studying_. He knew she regretted not taking her A levels, that she regretted a lot when they worked at a school and met young students—granted, enhanced young students—but students with greater knowledge than her. She always managed to understand more than she let on, but now, it seemed she was using it.

And friends? Three weeks and he hadn't met any of them yet. Well, she was wonderful with people. Can't be Rose Tyler regardless of costume or part to play without making a mate or two. Something about her was a bit magnetic, even if she did have a temper.

Rose had started to live a life, as he expected, as he _wanted_ for her.

And dropped it all for him. _Again_. As much as it thrilled him, it hurt, too.

“Point is, Doctor, I didn’t know there was a difference between my daughter a month ago and my daughter in battle. The last three weeks has enlightened me. And I think that’s due to you. So thank you, Doctor. I have a daughter and a son and a wife now. Wouldn’t have that if it weren’t for you.”

“Well,” he drew out the word, leisurely laying back on his chair a bit cockily, arm bent at the elbow as he put his hand at the back of his neck, “not many people would actually _thank_ someone for the inclusion of Jackie in their lives—” the Doctor joked, Pete laughed a bit on the other end of the phone. “—but you're welcome. Just making at least one of these worlds get it right.”

“That’s you, fixin' the universe,” Rose's voice floated into his ear, her walking up to him from the darkened hall with a happy smirk.

“Talking of trouble” the Doctor said into the phone, not taking his eyes off the figure enclosing on his position.

“Have to go anyway. I’ll get the new paperwork going. Later, Doctor.” 

“Talk more later, Pete.” And the Doctor put down his phone before it beeped off, instantly reaching for the head of the now bending woman with her hand on his shoulder about to press her face to his.

“Good talk?” she said, closing in on him, her face dangerously close to his with a sly smile.

“Productive.” He leaned in further.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My brain jumps around a bunch. It takes a while to cobble together bits into something that makes some sense.  
> More days coming.
> 
> Thanks for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> I had another few stories in between this and the last, but I figured they were likely only amusing to myself.


End file.
